


Her 15th Share

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13729725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: After the BOTFA Bilba returns home to the Shire with a broken heart and a distaste for dwarves, but it appears she may have brought her share of the treasure home after all. Fem!Bilbo





	1. Chapter 1

All Bilba had ever wanted was a home. Somewhere to lay her head at the end of the long day. Somewhere to warm her feet after a heavy winter’s rain. It didn’t matter to her if there was someone to curl up next to at bedtime, or tiny mouths to feed several times a day. She just wanted a home.

She had thought that she had found it amongst the dwarves. She had looked to Erebor as her future home, a palace of security and safety, where she may one day even be queen. Now the mountain was fading into the distance and she had never felt so lonely.

Bilba had been a fool. She had thought that a powerful king could love a little hobbit like herself. She had been wrong. That king loved nothing other than his jewels, his gems and his title. He had used her to warm his bedroll and pass the nights and that was all. When he had been forced to pick between her and a gemstone he had almost killed her.

Now he was somewhere within the mountains, laying in a healers room whilst they fought valiantly to save his life. Balin had pleaded with Bilba to stay, trying to convince her that when Thorin woke up he would apologised a thousand times over. Bilba just couldn’t believe him. Thorin had dangled her from the battlements by her _neck_. What would happen if the gold sickness came back and there wasn’t an army of elves and men watching Thorin? Would he really throw her into the chasms below Erebor? Bilbo couldn’t take that chance.

So now she journeyed with Gandalf and would take the long road back to the Shire. “It is not too late to turn back.” Gandalf said gently, eyeing the weary hobbit from under his hat.

“I cannot, Gandalf. I cannot go back to that place. It is cursed.” Bilba refused to look back as she urged her horse into Mirkwood. Several of the woodland elves were there to meet them and lead them back to Thranduil’s halls.

The elven king had been kind enough to grant them a few nights of shelter before they began the long journey back to the Shire. As neither Erebor nor Dale could offer them supplies, Thranduil had also promised to fill their bags before they left.

Although Azog and his army had been defeated the forests were still dangerous and the elves made them travel in silence. The air was still as thick and heavy as it had been several months ago and Bilba’s mind began to drift off to places she’d rather it not. She shook her head to try and clear her mind and several strands of hair whipped her cheek. She grimaced.

In the pandemonium of war and it’s equally chaotic aftermath there had been no time to clean up. Bilba’s hair was slicked back with dried sweat and matted with blood. Her clothes were no better. She imagined she smelt horrible and looked far worse. Gandalf seemed a little dusty but no worse than usual. Bilba imagined there was some deal of magic keeping the wizard clean.

Thranduil’s halls seemed quiet as Bilba was led inside. It seemed as though the entire palace was mourning for the loss of those who had died in the battle. Bilba dismounted in silence and willingly handed over Sting to the waiting elf. “Bilba, go with them.” Gandalf instructed. “I must speak with Thranduil before we leave tomorrow.”

In the silence and peace of the palace Bilba could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her and she suddenly had a strong desire to sleep. She followed the elves wordlessly and kept her eyes turned down. “You may stay here for the night.” One of the elves escorting her informed her. “There is a warm bath drawn up for you inside. King Thranduil asks that you stay inside. If you need anything there will be someone just outside.”

Bilba nodded her thanks, hardly surprised that she wasn’t allowed to wander the palace. Last time she had been here she had broken out thirteen dwarves and had caused some damage as well. She slipped inside the room and took a moment to take it in. It was entirely wooden and the ceiling seemed miles above her, which was just as well considering there were no windows. A large bed sat in the middle of the room, draped in silks and cotton. It looked incredibly inviting and Bilba wanted nothing more than to throw herself onto it and lose herself in the covers. However she was in desperate need of a bath and decided that it took preference over sleep.

The bath was tucked away behind a decorative screen and hot steam rose in gentle columns from the crystal water. Wincing Bilbo began to undo her waist coat. She shimmied out of the trousers and piled her clothes up on the floor before scrambling into the tub. The water was hot on her skin and she could feel the stress melt away as she slipped under the water. She couldn’t remember the last time she had bathed properly. It must have been in Bag End nearly a year ago. Bilba lay for a moment, completely submerged in water, an imagined the worries of the last year floating away.

Bilba resurfaced and let her hair down from its tight bun. She grimaced as the hair hardly moved. She had to tug on the strands to release them from their formation.

On the side of the bath were several bottles and she emptied each one it turn, cleaning every inch of her skin and every hair on her body. By the time she was done the water was a muddy brown but she felt much better. There was a fluffy towel laid out for her and she wrapped it around her chest before padding over to the basin. There was a mirror hung on the wall behind it and some thoughtful elf had left a stool so that Bilbo could see her reflection.

What Bilba saw displeased her greatly. Her face was tanned from the months of travel and small cuts crisscrossed her face. There were dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were hollow and prominent. Her eyes told the tale of a thousand stories she would never tell and even her hair, dripping though it was around her shoulders, seemed to have lost its life.

Bilba sighed and brought her hand up to her neck. She tugged lightly at the silver chain she found there. Hanging from it were two rings; the gold ring that had undoubtedly saved her life several times over the course of the journey, and the silver and blue ring Thorin had worn on his right hand. He had gifted it to her as a promise of his undying love. She had meant to return it before she had left, but things had been so hectic she had forgotten. With a sigh she ran her hand thought her hair. It was far too long now. It had almost doubled in length and now grazed the middle of her back. Maybe the extra weight would help to tame it more.

 _He liked your wild hair_.

A voice whispered in the back of her mind and she shook it away. Now was time for Bilba’s life to start anew, and she could not do that whilst thinking of Thorin. Bilba turned from the mirror and finished drying herself before heading back to the bed.

What she guessed must be a child’s night dress had been laid out for her and she put it on willingly. At the start of the journey her curvaceous figure would have never fitted in the sleek dress, but now it seemed to hang off her. She would certainly draw questions when she eventually returned home.

With a tentative stretch Bilba drew back the covers of the bed and nestled down under the sheets. The aches and pains seem to run from her body immediately and sleep came rushing to meet her.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bilba was woken the following morning by an elf shaking her gently awake. “Forgive me, Miss Bilba, but it is time to rise. You leave in an hour.”

Bilba groaned and sat up. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse in her throat.

“Just before noon.” the elf straightened up and waved her hand towards a pile of neatly folded clothes. “Your travelling clothes have been washed and mended for you. Your weapon will be returned when you leave.”

Bilba smiled sleepily. “Thanks.”

The elf nodded and stalked from the room. Bilba dressed slowly, now painfully aware of the aching muscles and sore bones that plagued her. Her clothes, which yesterday could have stood on their own, were now soft and smelled of fresh air and flowers. Her shirt was once again white and the fur trim of the blue coat was soft once more. She was beginning to feel more like the hobbit she once was. A small hair tie had also been left for her and she spent a few minutes pulling her hair back into a braid. It wasn’t quite as neat as what Thorin had achieved but it would do.

 _Forget him. He’s already forgotten you_.

Bilba chided herself. She fastened up her coat and stepped out of the room, casting one final longing look at the bed. The elf that was on guard outside led her wordlessly down the passages back towards the entrance. Bilba couldn’t tell if it was the recent events that made the elves seem so hostile or if it was just the way these elves were. The elves of Rivendell had been so nice compared to the woodland elves.

“Bilba! Good morning!” Gandalf’s voice echoed across the entrance hall and Bilba drew close. “You are looking far more refreshed!”

Bilba smiled tightly. Two strong horses stood before her, nothing like the ponies she’d been riding for the last year. Each one had an ornate saddle and several saddle bags attached.

“Mirkwood steeds, on gracious loan from the King.” Gandalf explained, as though reading Bilba’s mind. He helped her up into the saddle and Bilba’s stomach rolled a little from the height. It was nothing compared to eagles and mountains, but she had complete control over this horse. “There’s some food in one of the saddle bags.” Gandalf explained, mounting his own horse. “The elves will provide us an escort to the edge of the forest, where we can make to Beorn’s house. It’ll take most of the day.”

Bilba was a little doubtful but nodded silently. When they had ventured through the woods on their way to Erebor it had taken them four days to reach the palace, but then they had been hopelessly lost.

Thankfully Bilba’s horse seemed to know was it was doing and followed Gandalf and the elves out without any prompting. Bilba took the opportunity to dig through the saddlebags to find some food. In-between the bags she found that Sting had been tied onto the saddle. She found some Lembass bread, which she recognised from her night creeping around the dungeons.

Bilba carefully unwrapped a square and nibbled away at it. She looked forwards to getting home to Bag End and cooking her own food again. Bombur’s cooking had been nice, but it was all meat and no vegetables. She’d kill for a carrot to crunch on again. Once she got to Rivendell she would sent a letter to Hamfast Gamgee and ask him to stock up her pantry. Bilba had asked Hamfast to look after Bag End before she had left, taking a moment to make arrangements for her absence before the quest had swept her away.

The forest was still as quiet as the day before but the air seemed to be lighter today. Nonetheless Bilba wouldn’t like to make the journey without an Elf to guide her. “Will we be safe travelling to Beorn’s after dark?” Bilba whispered to Gandalf, unsure if she should be talking any louder.

Gandalf nodded. “Beorn will be out tonight, looking over his lands. He will make sure we are safe, though I doubt any orc stragglers would dare come this far west.”

After the battle a few hundred orcs and goblins had escaped into tunnels dug by the were-worms. They hadn’t been seen since and Gandalf guessed they would retreat into the tunnels to die of their wounds. They certainly wouldn’t attempt to attack again.

“Beorn will see we have some fresh food to take with us, but it won’t last very long.”

Bilba nodded. Beorn had had nice food when she had last visited. They honey was especially delicious. “How will we cross the Misty Mountains?” Bilba asked quietly. “Surely Beorn won’t travel that far?”

Gandalf shook his head. “There are some safer routes through the mountains than the one you took last. I can navigate us past the goblin caves and once we are a little over halfway then some of the elves from Imladris will meet with us.”

Bilba nodded. She didn’t feel like running into the goblins again, especially not after the last time. As they travelled through Mirkwood Bilba realised that it was still beautiful, despite the decay and witchcraft that ate away at it. The moss on the fallen trees had a silver ting and the decomposing leaves looked almost purple. Perhaps life would one day return to the forest. Bilba could only hope that she would live to see that day, although she would have no need to ever be back here again.

_Unless Thorin comes for you._

The annoying voice whispered in the back of her mind. Bilba pushed it away. Thorin would never come for her and she didn’t need him to. He had his gold and his crown and his throne and that was all he would ever need. All she needed was her books and her armchair by the fire.

It was late afternoon by the time they left Mirkwood and Bilba was quite surprised that they had made such good time. The company had truly gotten lost on their way through the first time!

“Travel well, Gandalf.” The Elf guide bid the wizard farewell. He offered Bilba a curt nod but she didn’t think anything of it. Having made it from Erebor to the other side of Mirkwood in just under two days filled her with hope. Maybe the journey home wouldn’t be so long after all.

Gandalf urged the horses to a canter and they began to cross the plains towards Beorn’s house. The sun hadn’t yet set so Beorn would still be home. Bilba couldn’t possible imagine how he managed to sleep for only a few hours a day, but it was certainly impressive. She looked forwards to seeing him again. It had been thanks to him that Thorin, Fíli and Kíli had reached a healer in time. Bilba hadn’t had the chance to thank him properly as he had left swiftly after the battle had ended.

Gandalf and Bilba rode past a small flock of sheep, which looked up in fright as they galloped past. The sheep watched them for a moment before giving chase, running after the horses and bleating merrily as they went. Bilba smiled to herself and momentarily forgot her heartbreak. The horses slowed slightly as the sun finally set and it became harder for them to see the path ahead.

Beorn’s house finally came into view, lantern light spilling out from the open windows. The horses slowed to a trot and the sheep ran past, up the path and in through the open gate. Gandalf led the horses into the garden and dismounted, closing the gate behind him. He helped Bilba down and she stretched gratefully. “We’re making good time.” She remarked. “How long until we get home?”

“Two months, maybe three if we run into any trouble.” Gandalf replied, unsaddling his horse. “You head on inside and see if Beorn’s left us any food out.”

Bilba nodded and headed for the kitchen, pleased to find that Beorn had left some sandwiches out. She shared her food with the mice and gave the rest of her milk to the cat before allowing a sheep to lead her to a bed. It was far nicer than the hay she had slept in last time. A woollen blanket had even been provided. Bilba thanked the sheep, who bleated in response. Bilba lay down and wriggle a little bit until she got comfy. Over the last few months she had gotten used to having someone near her to keep her warm. Now the lack of bodies made the world seem a little lonelier. The sheep seemed to realise her sadness and rather than leaving it lay down next to her and lulled her off to sleep with its gentle breathing.

 


	3. 3

Bilba awoke in the morning to the sound of low voices coming from the kitchen. She followed the sound and found Gandalf and Beorn talking quietly over a cup of tea. “Ah, good morning Bilba!” Gandalf greeted with a warm smile. Beorn also looked up and smiled.

“Did Rose keep you warm last night?” he rumbled.

Bilba nodded and patted Rose’s head, who had followed her into the kitchen. “I do love your friends.” She approached the table and scrambled up as Gandalf poured her a fresh cup of tea. “How have you been Beorn? I didn’t really get the chance to speak to you after everything you did to help.”

“I have slept well, knowing that my people have finally been avenged.” Beorn replied quietly. “I only wish they had all died.”

“I am sure they will be grateful regardless.” Bilba said between sips of tea. “The dwarves most certainly are. You saved their royal family.”

Beorn grunted. “Yet here you are, running away.”

Bilba choked on her mouthful and felt herself blushing. “I’m not running away.” She said quietly, fixing her gaze on the floor. “I’m just going home. That was always the plan.”

“When you first passed through my door you and the king couldn’t keep eye or hand off each other. What happened there?” Beorn frowned, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort he had suddenly caused Bilba.

“Gold sickness.” Gandalf interjected. “It’s perhaps not a conversation for now.”

Beorn thankfully seemed to take the hint and let the subject drop. “I have some honey for you to take home with you.” He said, nodding towards a cupboard. “Will you not stay another night?”

Gandalf shook his head. “It’s imperative Bilba returns home as soon as possible.”

Bilba raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. She wouldn’t have minded staying another night. She quite liked Beorn’s house and the animals were certainly friendly. She didn’t see why there was such a rush to get home, but maybe Gandalf had other places to be.

Beorn nodded. “I will see that your horses are ready within the hour then.” He said, setting down his mug. He headed out into the garden and Gandalf and Bilba finished their tea in silence.

Bilba had wandered outside when a wave of nausea hit her. It was violent and came out of nowhere, forcing her to her knees. She retched and brought up the tea into a rose bush, startling the bees that had been buzzing around. With a groan Bilba rolled back onto her heels and stood up, using the wall to support herself. She looked up to find Beorn and Gandalf watching her with a mix of expressions. Beorn looked started whereas Gandalf looked…. resigned? No, that couldn’t be right. It must be concern.

“I’ll pack you some ginger and some peppermint for your travels.” Beorn decided, heading back inside.

Bilba smiled weakly in thanks and made her way across to Gandalf. “I think the last few months are starting to catch up with me.” She sighed.

“It would seem so.” Gandalf said gently before helping up into the saddle.

Beorn returned with two small pouches, one filled with ginger and one filled with peppermint. “You are always welcome here, miss Bilba.” He smiled, tucking the pouches into a saddlebag next to the honey.

“And you are always welcomed at Bag End.” Bilba smiled. “I will write.” She promised, before urging her horse out of the garden after Gandalf.

The sun was bright today but the air had a sharp chill, reminding them that winter was just around the corner. In the distance the peaks of the Misty Mountains were dusted in snow, and Bilba couldn’t help but wonder if the Lonely Mountain had seen snow too.

_It doesn’t matter._

Bilba chided herself. Erebor was behind her, as was her dealings with dwarves and her days of romance. It was all over and done with and Bilba was determined to be the respectable hobbit she once was.

The next few days passed with no incident, other than persistent nausea and vomiting every few hours on Bilba’s behalf. It appeared she was coming down with a sickness. It was hardly surprising considering her living arrangements over the last year. Gandalf was good and made sure she always had ginger tea or peppermint teat to drink when they stopped to rest for a while. Bilba’s bones were beginning to ache terrible and she longed for nothing more than her books and her fireplace at Bag End.

After a week of travel the Misty Mountains loomed ahead of them and the flat, grassy plains had given way to rocky hills. The sun was obscured by grey clouds and the weather couldn’t decide between rain and snow, so settled for constant sleet. It resulted in a building headache and, for the first time in a week, Bilba found herself regretting the decision to leave Erebor. Maybe she should have waited out the winter first?

 _Don’t be silly_. She chided herself. _Who know what would have happened if you had stayed_.

Deep down Bilba knew that she had made the right choice, but she was starting to miss her friends and part of her needed to know that Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were okay, even if it was just for closure. She had nothing against the two brothers. In those last few days they had been a voice of reason, the only ones brave enough to stand up to their uncle. Fíli had even been the one to stand between her and Thorin after he had attempted to… well, Bilba wasn’t sure if Thorin would have killed her. He threatened her, yes, but cold-blooded murder seemed a little bit too much.

Thankfully Bilba couldn’t dwell on thoughts of Erebor for too long as the path became too difficult to ride and she and Gandalf had to lead the horses on foot. The sleet was unrelenting and it soaked them to the bone in only a few hours. Even with her head down Bilba could tell they were making very little progress.

“We can rest here for the night!” Gandalf called over the mounting wind. He led the way to a small cave and checked it over thoroughly before announcing that it was safe to stay in for the night.

They lit a small fire and kept it going just long enough to heat some water for tea before putting it out and plunging themselves into darkness.

In the morning Bilba’s persistent nausea woke her up and, after emptying her stomach, they were ready to go again.

The path Gandalf led them down wound around the base of the mountain, rather than up the side of them. Here there was no risk of the mountain giving way below them and no risk of them tumbling to their deaths. Although the wind whipped through the valley it wasn’t as extreme and they could occasionally find shelter from the torrential rain. It was hard to imagine the sprawling goblin kingdom just below their feet, but sometimes Bilba thought she could hear goblin screams on the wind. Gandalf told her she was just imagining it, but it sounded very real to her.

Bilba slept soundly though the nights and was only woken by her vomiting and her frequent urge to urinate. The headache came and passed and no cold developed and whatever this sickness was didn’t seem to either progress or go away. A week into the journey through the Misty Mountains and Bilba thought she had found the answer; her period.

It had been almost eight months since her last period, something she had put down to stress and harsh travelling conditions. Now that all of that was behind her it seemed Mother Nature was back. Her breasts ached like there was no tomorrow and every step caused great discomfort. It would explain the nausea and the fatigue she seemed plagued by. She could only hope that it held off long enough so that she could get to Rivendell before the blood started.

She was forced to convey her concerns to Gandalf after it seemed their pace was starting to slow. He looked at her quizzically and shook his head. “I’m sure we will be in Rivendell long before then.” He smiled gently, nodding towards a small rise that was half a day away. “We will meet the guide from Rivendell just over that ridge tomorrow. Tonight we can rest under that ledge. It should keep most of the rain off us.”

As Bilba settled down for the night she was acutely aware of the mild cramping and could only hope that Gandalf was right.


	4. 4

Bilba had never been happier to see the valley of Imladris. Her body was aching from her breasts to her stomach and she hadn’t managed to keep any food down at all that morning. Gandalf had seemed relatively unconcerned by the whole ordeal so Bilba at least knew that she wasn’t suffering from anything serious. The elven guide from Imladris had seemed concerned but shrugged it off after a brief conversation with Gandalf in Elvish.

Lord Elrond met the travelling pair in the courtyard and ushered them inside out of the rain. “A bath has been drawn up for you in the east wing.” Lord Elrond smiled down at Bilba warmly. “Take your time. Once you’re done I’ll see about having a healer sent to you.”

“Thank you.” Bilba smiled, her stomach rolling horribly.

An elf maiden stayed with Bilba whilst she bathed, helping to wash her hair thoroughly and scrub her back and shoulders. By the time she was done Bilba’s hair felt as soft as silk and she felt as light as a feather. The maid helped her dress in a dark blue gown that was truly beautiful, but Bilba had to force herself to shrug it on. It bore too close a resemblance to the dwarven dresses in Erebor that Bilba had found before everything had gone downhill.

“The Lady Arwen has been asked to look over you.” The maid explained, leading Bilba to a guest room. “Lord Elrond’s daughter has a very good knowledge of female biology.”

“Thank you.” Bilba smiled, eyeing the bed in the corner of the room longingly. All she wanted at this point was to curl up, sleep for a week and hope she felt a little better once she woke up. Yet all she could do was sit on the bed and wait for Arwen to arrive.

The Lady Arwen arrived shortly after the maid had left, carrying a pot and several small bags of herbs. She smiled as she set them down on a small table near the bed. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Bilba.”

“That’s a lot of herbs.” Bilba commented, her eyes drawn to the small pot. “Is that _soil_?”

Arwen laughed, a sound that tinkled through the room like water down a brook. “Gandalf tells me you have been feeling unwell. I need to be certain of what I am treating if I am to help you. Now, nausea, yes?”

Bilba nodded and watched as Arwen mixed both peppermint and ginger together in a mug of warm water.

“What else troubles you?”

“I’m tired all the time. I constantly need to wee. Everything aches.” Bilba reeled off the ailments that had been troubling her for the last few weeks and Arwen nodded with each one.

“Gandalf tells me that you shared a romance with King Thorin, correct?”

Bilba nodded. “It ended several months ago, just after Smaug perished.”

“Was this a sexual relationship?”

Bilba felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she ducked her head. “Once or twice.”

Arwen hummed and picked up the pot. “Have you considered that you might be pregnant?”

Bilba’s heart stopped for a moment, before roaring back into life as she laughed heartily. “Heavens no!”

“You took precautions then?”

Bilba cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Not exactly, no. I stopped bleeding six or seven months into the journey, just before we became intimate. I didn’t see the point in taking precautions if there was no chance.”

Arwen frowned. “Just because our bodies lie dormant doesn’t mean they have stopped working. You may have needed to find yourself dry for a year or so before you could be certain.” She brandished the pot at Bilba. “You must urinate onto the soil in the pot.”

Bilba laughed, assuming Arwen was joking. When Arwen remained looking serious Bilba’s laugh tailed off. “Why?”

“In this pot there are a mix of barely seeds and wheat seeds. If you are indeed pregnant then the seeds will root and start to grow.”

Bilba stared at the pot in horror. _Pregnant? Her?_ With _Thorin’s_ child? The room suddenly felt much too large and her head far too light.

“The sooner you do so the sooner you will have your answer.” Arwen said firmly, shaking the pot lightly at Bilba. “If you are indeed pregnant then you must know before you return to the Shire.” She set the pot down and shook her head, sighing. “It must be daunting for you, but please, you must know for your own sake. Dinner will be served in an hour on the terrace.” Arwen dusted her hands off on her dress and took her leave.

Bilba sat frozen for a few minutes, staring at the pot. Was it even possible for her to be pregnant? Of course, she understood the logistics of pregnancy and conceiving, and it wouldn’t be the first dwobbit baby, but could she possibly be pregnant? She had been so sure that there had been no possibility, and her mother had always said that a woman knew her own body.

She felt sick. The room was spinning. This was too much. Too much too soon.

_You need to know._

Bilba knew she must know. If she were indeed pregnant then there would be no delaying it. With shaking hands and unsteady feet she made her way to the bathroom. She seemed almost disconnected from everything as she crouched over the pot and relieved herself into the soil. It was certainly inelegant.

Once done she stashed the pot under the bed. She didn’t want to risk rain water getting in and they wouldn’t need light until they started to grow anyway. She also didn’t want to risk other people from seeing the pot, although she suspected Gandalf knew anyway.

_Bloody wizards._

Bilba thought she did a fantastic job of acting normal during dinner. She entertained Elrond’s questions about the quest and the Shire, and she even managed to apologise for sneaking away last time she had been there. In turn Elrond answered her questions about vegetables and flowers and took care to avoid asking questions that centred on Thorin.

After dinner Bilba found herself sat on the floor by the bed, cradling the pot and allowing her mind to wander to _what if_ ’s. Would she go back to the mountain if she was indeed pregnant by Thorin? She didn’t think so, but it wasn’t fair to keep this from Thorin. She would have to tell him. Perhaps she could write him a letter, let him know that he had a child? What if he tried to take the child from her? He wouldn’t allow her back to the mountain and she wouldn’t be parted from her child.

“Oh, bebother.” Bilba laughed gently to herself. Here she was worrying about a child that didn’t exist! She pushed the pot back under the bed and slid under the covers herself, safe and sound in the knowledge that she most certainly was _not_ pregnant.

 


	5. 5

_Bilba was stood in the throne room of Erebor, but it was different from the last time she had stood here. All of the lanterns were lit and the cavern had been rebuilt. The throne was illuminated by candle light, the flames dancing off the gold and the gems embedded in the stone. At the top sat the Arkenstone, glittering in all of its glory._

_No, that wasn’t right, was it? The Arkenstone was buried, locked away far below the mountain where no one would ever find it._

_A harsh wind whipped through the throne room and Bilba looked down, watching as the hem of her tattered skirt snapped around her ankles. Her clothes were threadbare and full of holes, her feet filthy and her hair matted._

_Somewhere behind her a baby cried and Bilbo turned to look. There she saw Thorin, dressed in all his kingly robes, stood strong and firm. He glared at her from under the heavy weight of a gold crown. In his arms he held a bundle of gold cloth._

**_A baby._ **

_Bilba took a step towards the baby and Thorin took a step back. “Halt!” he commanded, his voice strong and cold._

_“My baby.” Bilba heard herself say, reaching out against her control for the baby. “Give me my baby.”_

_“ **Your** baby?” Thorin laughed, moving the baby out of her grip. He turned and handed it to a female dwarf. She was Thorin’s height with beautiful golden hair and large breasts. She was dressed in so many gems it was impossible to see the fabric below it. But she had no face. “You birthed **my** child but it is **nothing** to you. You are a means to an end. I have my heir now.” _

_“But you have Fíli!” Bilba tried to walk forwards but her feet had stuck to the floor._

_“Fíli?” Thorin laughed harshly, striding towards her. “Fíli is weak, as is his brother. Only **my** child is worthy of my throne.” Thorin reached out a jewel-encrusted hand and grabbed Bilba by the throat. He lifted her clear off the ground and spun her so that she dangled over the bottomless chasm. _

_“Thorin, please!” Bilba gasped, trying to fight the dwarven king._

_It was no use. Thorin laughed harshly and squeezed harder. “To think, I once shared my bed with **you.** ” _

_Thorin released his grip and suddenly Bilba was falling through the air, racing towards her death._

Bilba sat up suddenly, drenched in sweat and her heart trying to burst out of her chest. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth slightly as she tried to calm herself down. “Please, no.” she pleaded aloud. She couldn’t deal with nightmares, or indeed any dream which revolved around Thorin. She needed to forget him, not see him every time she closed her eyes.

It was the stress of the possible pregnancy. Bilba hadn’t slept well in the last three nights and now she was having nightmares about something that may never come to pass.

Sighing Bilba lifted herself from her bed and padded over to the window. The sun was just starting to rise and the valley of Imladris was bathed in a warm glow. Somewhere under Bilba’s bed was a pot that held her future. She had put off looking since the first night, determined to forget about it until it was no longer possible.

But now she had to continue on to the Shire and she must know one way or another. With a sigh and a heavy heart Bilba dropped to her knees by the bed and rummaged around for the pot. Her mouth was dry as she pulled out the pot.

There was no sign of life poking out of the soil and Bilba allowed herself to get her hopes up, knowing deep down that shoots wouldn’t appear until week three or four. With a shaking hand Bilba dug through the soil.

She found the wheat first and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she found the seeds to be perfectly intact.

Then her heart stopped and tears welled in her eyes.

In her hand she held four sprouting barley seeds.

Bilba couldn’t breathe. Her entire world was crashing around her and caving in. Fear and panic began to well in her chest and she didn’t even notice when the door to her bedroom opened and Arwen allowed herself in.

Sobs wracked Bilba’s body as Arwen gently took the seeds from Bilba and put the pot to one side. Arwen lifted the trembling hobbit onto the bed and cradled her gently until the sobs had subsided to sniffles. “What do I do?” Bilba asked between gasps of air.

“Stay strong, for yourself and your baby. What you do in regards to Thorin is your own choice.” Arwen petted Bilba’s hair gently. “Think about it, there is no need to rush.”

Bilba nodded between sniffles.

_Why me?_

She cried internally, but she knew why it was her. She had fallen for the rugged charm of the displaced prince and had believed his lies. The worst part of it all had been that she had actually fallen in love with him and was yet to fall out of it.

Preparations would have to be made, of course. Hamfast would need to do another shop for her and the carpenter would need to be contacted. How would the other hobbits of the Shire react? Did Bilba really care? She didn’t think she did.

Once Bilba felt well enough she dressed herself and picked her way down to the courtyard. Lord Elrond and Gandalf most certainly knew what had happened just by looking at her red, puffy eyes. Thankfully neither of them said anything about it and Lord Elrond merely bid them farewell and good luck.

Gandalf at least had the decency to wait until mid-afternoon before mentioning anything to do with dwarves. “I received a letter from Master Balin this morning.” Gandalf stated, staring straight ahead as they approached the Trollshaws.

“Oh?” Bilba didn’t know if she cared or not.

Gandalf held out a folded sheet of parchment and Bilba took it, gingerly unfolding it as though it may burst into flames the moment she touched it.

 **Master Gandalf and Miss Bilba,**  
I hope this letter finds you both well. The restoration is well underway now and we expect the first of five caravans to arrive within the next three months. Trade deals and peace treaties have been written up and signed with both Dale and Mirkwood and we all look forwards to a prosperous future.   
You shall be pleased to know that both Thorin, Fíli and Kíli have all recovered from their wounds, although they have all suffered greatly. Fíli has lost his left eye and Oín fears Kíli may never walk properly again. Thorin will forever maintain a numbness in his left side after the wound inflicted by Azog, but he can still walk and hold a shield.   
I hope that the both of you are making good progress and are not suffering too terribly after everything.   
Faithfully yours,  
Balin, son of Fundin

Bilba refolded the letter and returned it to Gandalf. So the three sons of Durin had survived. Bilba felt a little lighter now, like a great weight had been lifted from her chest. It was a great shame that Fíli and Kíli would now suffer for the rest of their lives. Kíli had such promise as an archer, but it looked like his fighting days may now be behind him. And poor Fíli had had such beautiful eyes, but at least he didn’t completely loose his sight.

Bilba felt a little bit better knowing that Thorin was alive, but it was a punch in the gut that it was Balin who had written and not Thorin.

“Balin also enclosed an invite to Thorin’s coronation.” Gandalf said carefully, ducking under a few low-hanging branches. “Next Durin’s day.”

“Will you be going?”

Gandalf nodded. “Yes, I think I owe that to Thorin. Will you?”

Bilba shook her head. “I don’t think he would welcome be back.” she said quietly. “Plus I can’t travel with a baby.”

The lack of response from Gandalf just confirmed that he had known all along. He didn’t try to convince Bilba that she should tell Thorin, nor did he ask why she wouldn’t, he merely let the subject go. For that she was grateful.

That night they took shelter under the three trolls that had tried to cook the company almost a year ago. Birds had started to nest in the hands of one and moss was quickly covering the trio. Gandalf took leave just after nightfall and returned just before midnight with the small chest that Gloin and Nori had buried a year ago. “Your share.” Gandalf announced, handing her the chest.

“Thank you, Gandalf, but I feel I already have more than I deserve.”

Gandalf smiled gently. “Consider this a safety net for you and the child.”

Bilba nodded and turned her eyes up towards the sky, wondering if any of the dwarves missed her and much as she was starting to miss them.

As it happened, hundreds of miles away, Fíli and Kíli were sat on the battlements of Erebor, staring up at the very same sky and wondering where their burglar had run off to. “It’s all uncle’s fault.” Kíli announced, tapping his leg absently. “If he had just apologised….”

“When was he meant to apologise?” Fíli snorted. “Before or after he was impaled?”

Kíli shrugged. “He did try to kill her.” He glanced across at the heir to the throne and his heart swelled at what he saw.

Fíli had always been the stronger of the two and he had truly proved it over the last few months. Where Kíli had struggled to come to terms with legs that no longer worked properly and having to use a wheelchair to get around, Fíli had taken his single eye in his stride. One could hardly tell that depth perception was still a problem for him. But then again, he could still manoeuvre Erebor without problem. Kíli had to take set routes with ramps instead of stairs.

“Maybe you should go after her.” Kíli sighed. “Talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.”

Fíli shook his head sadly. “You know I couldn’t, not without uncle’s permission. All we can do is hope that mother decides to pay her a visit when she passes though the Shire in a few months.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who came down with tonsillitis and two ruptured ear drums in the same day? Woo hoo! (Would be the reason for the delay though)


	6. Chapter 6

Two months after her return to the Shire and Bilba was convinced that hobbits were worse to live with than dwarves. She had had to fend off countless questions and Lobelia was at her door most mornings. The only saving grace was that her stomach was starting to swell with her baby and the hobbits began to keep away, whispering amongst themselves about the not-so-respectable Bilba Baggins and her father-less baby.

“Let them talk.” She had snapped one morning over a cup of tea to Hamfast, the only hobbit whose company she could tolerate for more than five minutes.

Hamfast Gamgee knew the basics of Bilba’s adventures. He knew she had travelled with thirteen dwarves and a wizard, slain a dragon and was carrying the child of one of the dwarves. He didn’t know the names of any of the dwarves of their social status, nor did he know why Bilba had returned to the Shire without the father of her baby. But nor did he ask, and that was what made him so tolerable.

Bell Goodchild, Hamfast’s wife, occasionally came to visit with her husband. She was making a blanket for Bilba’s child and had donated various clothes that her two children had outgrown. Bilba had used some of her share of the treasure to kit out the nursery in finery. Although her child may never know their father they would still be royalty and there was no harm in spoiling them.

After a few letters back and forth to Rivendell Bilba learned that sprouting barley seeds meant she was likely to be having a girl. Dwobbit babies usually looked like their dwarven parent but with softer features and thick soles on their feet. Bilba’s pregnancy would be the normal 11 months, which meant she only had five months until she was no longer alone.

The name was the hard part. From what Bilba knew the name of the child would take after the parent of the same sex. She didn’t really want to name her daughter after herself and so had taken to drawing inspiration from the natural world. Flowers, plants, trees and even gemstones all made the final list, but Bell assured her she would know the name once she could hold her daughter in her arms.

Not telling the dwarves had been the hard part. Bilba had sent a letter to Balin once she had arrived home, just to let him know she was safe. She had managed to reign in the urge to spill her heart to Balin and had refrained from asking about Thorin. She had had no reply, which had sealed it for her; the dwarves didn’t care.

“What about a yellow swaddle?” Bell asked, holding up a sheet of fabric from Rose’s stall.

Bilba’s mind flitted back to the nightmare that she’d had in Rivendell and she shook her head. “What about red? Or green?”

Belle nodded and selected an emerald green sheet of fabric.

_Not emerald, summer grass._

Over the last few months Bilba had slowly been feeling more and more like a dwarf. Maybe it was the child growing inside of her. Maybe it was the dwarven gold tucked away in her study. Regardless, she didn’t like it.

In the evenings Bilba liked to sit in front of the fire making a little teddy for the baby. It was, fittingly, a little caricature of Smaug. She planned to tell her baby about their father once they were old enough, so it made some sense to have a plush Smaug around the house.

Tonight Bilba took notice of the small bulge protruding from between her hips. It was the first time it looked really visible. A small smile tugged at Bilba’s mouth and she danced her fingers gently over the bump. “Hello little one.” She said softly.

Across the other side of the Misty Mountains the first Council of Thorin Oakenshield had gathered. Well, it was half a council. Balin, Gloin, Fíli and Dori formed the start of the council and the other five members would arrive in the council in the next few months.

“The royal halls have been fully repaired, as has the east wing.” Balin announced, reading down a list. “The west wing is almost done and then work will begin on the north wing and then the south wing.”

“What about the great hall?” Gloin rumbled. “And the kitchens?”

“Don’t forget the forges!” Fíli chimed in.

“The great hall is almost done. Thanks to the fiasco with the molten gold the floor didn’t need repairing.” Balin pushed a pair of spectacles back up his nose. “Bombur is taking care of the kitchens and the forges will be fully operational by the time the first caravan arrives next month.”

The other four dwarves nodded in satisfaction. “Dwalin and Kíli will start training up new recruits the moment they arrive.” Fíli stated. “Mother said that the tales of our victories have inspired a lot of younger dwarves to sign up.”

Gloin chuckled loudly, stroking his beard. “Aye, my Gimli already wants to fight!”

“He could probably best half of the new recruits too.” Thorin chucked in a rare display of amusement.

For the past four months Thorin had been rather depressed. He ate, slept and carried out his duties in a robotic manner. He rarely smiled, rarely jested and wouldn’t interact with people outside of the default lines a king would say to his subject. He quite clearly missed Bilba but would make no effort to write to her and he certainly did not want to see her. Dwalin had suggested visiting the Shire once and Thorin had gone off on a rant about how there would be no visits to traitors and they would never be welcome here. So that had been that.

Fíli and Kíli had been forced to resort to desperate measures; they had told their mother.

They had told Princess Dís about how Thorin had fallen head over heels in love with the hobbit, then head over heels for the gold sickness. They had told her how he had tried to kill her and how the hobbit had raced back to the Shire at the first chance. They had pleaded for her to call in on the hobbit as she passed by the shire and she had agreed. Now they needed to wait. Princess Dís would arrive with the final caravan a week before Durin’s day. Hopefully she would be able to convince the hobbit to return to Erebor with her.

But Bilba was stubborn. When she had initially returned home she had expected one of the knocks on the door to be a dwarf, ready to drag her back to Erebor to face trial as a traitor. Sting was stashed in a hidden alcove by the front door and a small dagger was tucked under her pillow. Bilba would draw blood if she had to, but she wasn’t going to be tried for doing the right thing.

 


	7. Chapter 7

As spring began to draw to a close in the Shire Bilba entered the seventh month of her pregnancy. There was no denying the baby now. Her bump was pronounced and the child kicked so much Bilba’s insides were surely bruised. Her wardrobe now consisted of pregnancy dresses and Bag End was fully baby proofed. At the back of the hobbit hole was a nursery fit for royalty, which was certainly fitting. Bilba had tried her hardest to combine both hobbit lifestyle and dwarvish lifestyle but it was hard. She vaguely remembered Thorin saying that dwarvern children were given lots of gems when they were little, but gems were understandably hard to come by in the Shire. Instead she had found small pebbles from the river bed and had painted them a rainbow of colours. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough.

Most of the hobbits had come to terms with the bastard child, or at least all those that mattered had. Lobelia swore she would never recognise the child as her family and that was quite alright by Bilba.

“Have you got a birth plan in place now?” Bell asked over a glass of lemonade. She and Bilba were having a picnic lunch on the hill that formed the roof of Bag End.  The Shire sprawled below them, the crystal water of the river slicing through the emerald green of the grass.

Bilba shrugged. “Arwen believes the birth will be no different to a hobbit birth, but the baby may be a bit bigger.”

“Who will deliver it for you?” Bell asked. “Usually it would be the grandmother of the baby but….” She trailed off, looking upset that she had brought up Belladonna, but Bilba smiled.

“I had hoped you would be there with me.”

Bell’s eyes lit up with glee. “Truly? You would? Oh, Bilba! I would be honoured!” Bell threw her arms around Bilba’s neck, taking care to not squash the baby.

The two say and chatted on the hilltop until later afternoon, eventually retiring to the kitchen when a breeze began to pick up. The two were halfway through preparing dinner when there was a heavy knocking on the door.

Bilba’s heart stopped.

Hobbit’s knocked delicately and politely. Dwarves thumped. This was definitely a thump.

The knocking came again and Bilba swallowed a rising lump in her throat.

“Do you want me to go?” Bell asked timidly, but Bilba shook her head. If this was indeed a dwarf then she didn’t want Bell getting mixed up in all this

Slowly, and with feet that felt like lead, Bilba walked towards the front door. The knocking came a third time as Bilba reached out a trembling, sweaty hand for the brass door knob, and cracked the door open a touch.

Her stomach bounced off the floor.

There was indeed a dwarf on the other side of the door. They looked an awful lot like Thorin, but their beard was much longer and more decorated, and their face had softer features. This dwarf showed no signs of battle scars, nor seething hatred for the hobbit. Rather, they looked quite curious.

“Princess Dís, daughter of Frís, at your service.” The dwarf rumbled gently, spreading their arms wide and bowing.

“B-Bilba B-Baggins at y-yours.” Bilba nodded her head, pressing her body closer to the door. “C-can I help you?”

“Aye, I believe you might.” Dís smiled at Bilba expectantly. “My sons sent me. They were quite curious to know if you would consider returning to Erebor.”

“I’m sorry, but no.” Bilba said firmly. “I shall not be returning to the mountain for reasons that are my own. Good day!” she tried to close the door in the dwarf’s face, but a heavy boot landed in the doorway, stopping Bilba from closing it.

“I know what my brother did to you. My son’s spared no detail in their letter.” Dís’ voice became soft. “Please, Bilba, let me help you.”

With a resigned sigh Bilba threw the door open and spread her arms. “Help me how?”

Dís’ eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and her face turned the colour of a ripe tomato. “The child of my brother?” she asked so quietly, Bilba could hardly hear her.

Bilba nodded.

“I’ll kill him.” Dís growled, stepping into the hobbit hole. She shrugged off her cloak and toed the door shut, gently taking Bilba’s hands in her own. “Let me help you.”

Bilba sighed and led Dís towards the kitchen, introducing her to Bell. They finished cooking their dinner in silence, with Dís casting side-long looks at Bilba. Once they had eaten and cleaned up Bell took her leave and Bilba led the dwarven princess to the living room.

“Tell me everything.” It was a command, but the Princess spoke so softly it sounded more like a request. She sounded nothing like her brother.

Bilba recounted her adventure from the moment Dwalin knocked on her door to the moment she closed the door on the world upon her return. She started out cautious, careful to not sound too critical of Thorin or get Fíli and Kíli in trouble, but by the end of it Bilba had thrown caution to the wind. Bilba told Dís how Fíli had been thrown from the battlements, his fall cushioned by a goblin felled at the perfect time by Kíli. She told her about how Kíli had fallen in love with an elf, and this had ultimately been what had saved him, for if she had not been following him no one would have known he had fallen. Dís chuckled at the story of the trolls, frowned at the recounting of the gold sickness and laughed at the tale of the barrels.

“Thank you, Bilba.” Dís sighed, leaning back in her chair and pressing the bridge of her nose. “It is refreshing to talk to someone who does not withhold the truth.”

Bilba shrugged. “I am more afraid of your brother than I am of you.” She too leant back in her seat, rubbing her protruding stomach. The skin was littered with stretchmarks and it ached continuously. Sensing their mother’s touch, the bump kicked. Dís sat upright, eyes wide and alert.

“The babe kicks?”

Bilba nodded, tapping the bump. “Usually at night, when they know I’m trying to sleep!” She laughed. “Would you like to feel?”

Dís nodded eagerly, getting up from the chair to crouch in front of Bilba. She laid a large, bejewelled hand on Bilba’s stomach, waiting patiently for the kick. Bilba looked away, her heart aching painfully, and this time it wasn’t the heartburn. If Bilba didn’t look at Dís face, she could almost be convinced it was Thorin waiting for the baby to kick.

Eventually the baby stirred and Dís returned to her chair with a triumphant smile. “You have not told my brother yet, no?”

Bilba shook her head. “As I said, he tried to kill me and told me that he never loved not wanted me. So no, I haven’t told him.”

Dís frowned. “Will you allow me to? Once I return to Erebor that is. I can stop him from leaving Erebor then if he takes the news poorly.”

Bilba sighed. Part of her did not want to agree, but she knew that Thorin deserved to know. Eventually she agreed and the two spent the night sat in front of the fire, swapping tales about their childhoods.

Meanwhile Thorin was having a less comfortable night. He laid awake in a bed too big and too cold, staring at a ceiling that seemed to tower above him. If he really focussed, he could imagine a crack appearing in the ceiling and the rock coming down on him and burying him. It would be for the best. Fíli could take the throne and the kingdom would prosper. Thorin deserved to be buried after all that had happened.

When he had initially woken up after the battle he had thought Bilba to be dead. No one would answer his questions and avoided the subject altogether. Then he had learned that Bilba had returned to the Shire and that had hurt more. Months of intimacy and tenderness had been shattered in a week of bad decisions.

_She never truly loved me. No one could ever truly love me._

Thorin scolded himself, knowing that the words were true. That’s why Bilba had been so quick to cast him aside after he had snapped. He hadn’t treated her well enough. If he had loved her a little more and treated her a little better she wouldn’t have run away. He had thought about asking her to return, and the bureau in the corner was covered in half written letter that he didn’t have the nerve to finish. He’d considered pleading with her to return and buying her return with gems and riches, but it sounded too much like a worker of the night to be acceptable. Thorin didn’t even care if she didn’t return to the mountain as his consort. Just having her under the stone and near him would be good enough. Mahal, she could even marry Ori if she wished, just so long as she returned.

But alas, it seemed it was not to be. Bilba had made her choice and Thorin was destined to live the rest of his pitiful life alone.

There was a rhythmic tapping on the door and Thorin grunted ‘enter’. The door swung open and Balin stepped in.

Balin was the only dwarf allowed into Thorin’s bedchamber. No one else needed to see the pitiful state in which the King lived. After the first few months Balin had stopped chiding Thorin for the mess, and now stepped over the piles of clothes and rubbish. “You sister’s caravan is taking shelter in Bree for a few days to resupply.” Balin informed Thorin, who merely grunted in response. “Nori has also identified the dwarves he wants for his intelligence network and would like to discuss it with you in the morning.”

Another grunt.

“The kitchens have also been completed and Bombur will be throwing a feast tomorrow to celebrate.”

Thorin grunted again and Balin sighed.

“Have you been taking your medication?” It was a silly question for Balin knew for a fact that Thorin had not. He tortured himself with his pain, the same as he did with Bilba’s old shirt, which was currently draped across a pillow. “I shall see you in the morning then.” Balin sighed, offer a small bow and let himself out of the room.

It took Thorin a few minutes to move, and even then he only flipped himself over onto his side. He pulled Bilba’s shirt close and, although it no longer smelt of her, it did give him some comfort. And so Thorin drifted off to sleep as he did most nights, with a broken heart and a tear in his eye.


	8. Chapter 8

Dís stayed with Bilba for a week, helping to make sure that the nursery was ready for a dwarvern baby. She even weighed in on some clothing design for babies, and warned that they might have some facial hair regardless of gender. Eventually though she did have to leave, and Bilba was sad to see her go. She liked the dwarf and believed that they could have become good friends.

“You must write to me once a month.” Dís instructed. “I shall write first and you can send your reply with the raven that I send. He will be sure to always find me.”

Bilba watched the dwarf leave with a heavy heart. Not only was she sad to once again be in dwarf-less company, but it meant that in four months Thorin would know that he was a father, and in six months Bilba’s life could be turned upside down once again. The baby kicked and Bilba sighed, rubbing her stomach as she turned back indoors. 

Dís watched the hobbit shut herself away in her hobbit hole and in that moment Dís shut away the motherly instincts that had been blossoming. When she got to Erebor she would string her brother up from the walkways by his testicles. How could he do such a despicable thing to such an innocent creature? The only two things Thorin had haver wanted in his life was to slay Smaug and find someone to love him. He had done both of those things and had then tried to kill the one who loved him.

“Felakgundu.” She cursed under her breath as she began the walk towards Bree. It would take her a few days to catch up to her caravan. They had rested in Bree for three days before pressing on. Dís would need to acquire a horse if she was to make good time.

The residents of the shire were just starting to go about their business for the day and they made effort to hide their stares and pointed fingers. Dís didn’t mind. She knew that to these halflings she must look so strange, but in her community she was one of the most handsome dwarves that lived. She was used to stares and points.

Bilba had told her that one of the farming hobbits on the outskirts of this village would rent his horses out for trips to Bree, as long as they were left at the stables there for him to collect at a later date. Dís headed there now, rummaging in her pocked for some form of payment. She found one gold coin and was doubtful that this would get her anything, but the farmer eagerly handed her the reigns to what he boasted as the fastest pony he owned.

As Dís rode away from Hobbington she whistled a happy tune. _It must be nice to be a hobbit_ , she mused. No enemies, lots of sun, a close community and seemingly no care in the world. _Except for poor Bilba_.

Dwarven pregnancies were difficult things. The babies were big boned and often very stubborn when it came to being born, and most dwarrowdams struggled, so poor Bilba wasn’t going to have an easy time.

A flash of pink caught Dís’ eye and she brought her pony to a halt. In amongst some bushes and nettles was a little pink and yellow flower. Dís smiled and leant down to pick the little flower. “A briar rose.” She chuckled aloud. “How coincidental.” She whistled and a black raven swooped down onto her shoulder from the sky. “Take this to Bilba.” She instructed and the raven bobbed its head before spreading its wings and returning to the sky.

At Bag End Bilba dried out the briar rose and flattened it between two heavy books on the bookcase.

“What’s that for?” Bell asked, but Bilba shook her head.

“Have you read over the instructions that Dís left?”

Bell nodded. “I’ll have to commission Samuel to make the ‘birthing chair’, but the rest of it is fairly straight forwards; lots of towels, warm water and a mix of hemlock, henbane and opium poppy. The only difficult thing left to do is inform your cousin.”

Bilba stopped in the middle of pouring the kettle. “I had quite forgotten about Fortinbras.” Bilba admitted quietly.

Fortinbras Took the second was the 29th Thain of the Shire and all births, marriages and deaths had to be announced and officiated by him. He was an important hobbit, although as a Took he may be more lenient towards the situation than the Baggins clan.

“I shall see him this afternoon.” Bilba decided. “Get it done with.”

~

That afternoon Bilba found herself knocking on the door of her cousin, Fortinbras. His wife, Lalia, answered the door. “Bilba!” she smiled widely, opening her arms for a hug. “Oh, how wonderful to see you! Please, come in!” Bilba waited patiently for Lalia to wheel herself out of the way of the door before allowing herself to be ushered inside a hobbit hole a little bigger than Bag End, and far fancier in terms of decoration. _Cheap decoration_. Bilba found herself concluding. The ‘gems’ in the chandelier were nothing more than coloured crystal. Her cousin was in his study, a large room where all the walls were comprised of bookcases. A large desk sat in the middle with a window overlooking the garden where Ferumbras played merrily.

“Bilba, how lovely to see you!” Fortinbras greeted. “I trust Lalia was nice enough to you?” he motioned for Bilba to sit and she did so.

“Lalia seems quite cheerful today.” Bilba admitted.

Fortibras laughed. “Aye, brought her a new cushion for her wheelchair. She rubbed through the last one!”

Bilba smiled politely although she found it sad that her cousin’s wife was so fat that she was confined to a wheelchair.

“I assume your visit today is to declare the impending birth of your child?” Fortinbras settled down behind his desk and reached for a large, leather bound book and a quill. “It’s been the talk of my dinner parties as of late and I daresay I’m interested to know more. Now, when is the child to be born?”

“Three months.” Bilba sighed.

“Have you decided on names?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me preemptively?”

“No.”

“Very well. The father?”

Bilba paused. On one hand she could tell her cousin and finally have some weight off her chest, but hobbits liked to gossip and nothing was ever truly a secret. “The father is no longer in the picture.” Bilba said slowly. “And likely never will be.”

“So, a bastard child then?”

Bilba winced, but nodded. It was a harsh thing to label her child but it was true. A bastard prince or princess. How Took-ish of her.

After the meeting Bilba took a slow walk back towards her hobbit hole. She almost missed the carefree life she had lived nearly two years ago, where her biggest worry had been what book to read before bed. Now her worries included whether or not she could walk to market whilst heavily pregnant, or whether or not a dwarf might steal her child away from her. She had truly made an impressive mess of her life.


End file.
